


Cherries in the Snow

by daggerinrose



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Boys In Love, Canon Compliant, M/M, Makeup, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 10:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13715694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daggerinrose/pseuds/daggerinrose
Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day, and Harry is not in the mood. So naturally, Louis lets Harry paint his body with kiss marks to make him feel better.or: a sappy couple does sappy things





	Cherries in the Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alittlelove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlelove/gifts).



> The title is the name of a lipstick shade.
> 
> Also, I changed the date from Halloween to Valentine's since it's February! Hope you don't mind. I also changed it from when they were in a band to the present, with solo careers. I hope you enjoy it anyway :')

Lately, Louis has bought Harry bushes and trees rather than flowers. To be quirky, of course, but also because he thinks flowers should only be given on special occasions.

"Cards aren’t included," the middle-aged cashier tells Louis, her goggly eyes pointed towards the card stuffed in a bouquet of roses Louis thought looked nice. They’re roses; pink ones that turn white at the edges.

To be fair, bushes last way longer than flowers. Trees can outlive them both. A bunch of flowers stuffed in a glass vase won’t even make it past the weekend. So Louis’ way of expressing his love for Harry through plants is not just for the laugh. In some way it means forever.

At least in Louis’ head, that is.

After having paid for his roses, Louis finds a couple of girls waiting outside the shop, their phones halfway out of their pockets, gaze set on Louis and his bouquet. It’s the excited giggles that gives them away.

"You wanna take a photo?" Louis asks after greeting them.

The girls are quick to nod their heads, and clumsily does their best to take each others photo while babbling happily to each other and to Louis.

"Who are the flowers for?" One of the girls asks after having taken her photo.

"My valentine," Louis simply says, and waves goodbye.

 

 

As soon as Louis closes the front door behind himself, he can hear the faint strum of a guitar coming from upstairs. Harry must have come home while Louis was out shopping.

In three hours, they’re supposed to be at Niall’s place for his annual "Valentine’s SuCKS" party, which usually starts off with Niall celebrating being single, and ends up with Niall playing gloomy break-up songs on his guitar.

Louis brings the flowers behind his back, and walks towards the sound of the music, which is sounding more and more like said gloomy break-up songs the closer he gets.

"Bad day?" Louis stops in front of his boyfriend, who has made a nest at the top of the stairs, the railing caging him from the floor below. There are a few blankets thrown around him, a couple of pillows, and a bottle of that god awful kale juice Harry learned to make through a tutorial on youtube.

Harry puts away his guitar. "You know that live show I had today?"

Louis squeezes the bouquet behind himself, not sure if this is a good time to surprise Harry, and nods.

"My string broke halfway through Two Ghosts." At that, Harry instantly curls himself up a bit more, as if the cringe is too strong to contain. "I was just getting to that part where I go like _ooooOO, oooo_ , ya know? And when my string broke I flinched a bit so my falsetto turned sour."

Louis squats down, and places the flowers on the floor next to himself. "I’m sorry, babe. But no one is going to give shit because of that."

Harry huffs. "Some already are."

"Some as in like, ten people, maybe? Out of thousands?" Louis holds Harry’s gaze for a moment, then pushes the bouquet towards him. "Happy Valentine’s Day, love."

Harry’s smile is weak, but he picks up the flowers anyway, smelling them. "Thank you, Lou. I actually got you chocolates, but I ate them all."

Louis laughs loudly at that, and quickly covers his mouth with his hand. "You probably needed them more than me."

They’re silent after that, and they both startle a bit when the doorbell rings.

"We gotta do something about that sound." Louis scratches his ear. "I swear no other doorbell is that loud. ’s like a bloody car horn."

Harry hums sadly, and Louis just can’t take the pout, so he reaches his finger out to pull on Harry’s lip. His pout only grows stronger.

 "Must be Lottie," Louis says, and gets to his feet. "She went out to get us something to wear tonight. Said we had to match so people will know we belong together at the party."

Harry scrunches his brows. "Gross."

"Tell me about it," Louis winks, before helping Harry to his feet.

"I’m not even sure I want to go to the party," Harry mutters when they’re descending the stairs. "What if someone saw my shitty performance?"

"It wasn’t shitty, Harold. And we promised Niall we wouldn’t miss his party this year." Louis opens the door, and Lottie rushes in with her hands full of bags before he has a chance to greet her.

Louis shuts the door behind her. "Hello to you, too, sunshine. How’s your day? Mine’s great. Harold’s… Not so good, but now that you’re here, better. Had a nice Valentine’s so far?"

"Shut up and help me with these," Lottie says, and drops all of her bags at once.

"What’s in the suitcase?" Harry asks, giving it a small nudge with his bare toe.

"I’ve just come from work, it’s my makeup bag." She pulls some clothes out, and hands them off to Louis. "The tie is optional, but it’s cute. Pastel pink."

"Pink." Louis replies dumbly. "Are we dressing up as cupid?"

"We’re celebrating love today, you idiot. Of course it’s pink. Harry’s socks have little hearts on them." Lottie shows Louis the socks.

"I’m sure he’ll love it," Louis assures, and a quick gaze over Lottie’s shoulder lets him know that Harry isn’t paying attention _at all_. His valentine is currently snooping through his sister’s makeup gear like he’s finally found purpose in life.

"He should, they’re my design."

"You’re designing clothes now?"

"Only today, only for you," Lottie waves off. "I gotta go, though. Places to be and all, so I’ll see you tonight, yeah?"

Louis looks back towards Harry, and sees that he’s standing at the foot of the stairs now, hands behind his back, mouth formed into an O in a silent whistle. Louis narrows his eyes.

Lottie has packed up her stuff by the time Louis drags his gaze away from Harry, and hugs her brother goodbye before he has a chance to warn her.

"Bye, Harry," Lottie throws behind her shoulder, and then she’s gone.

Louis gives Harry a pointed look. "What did you do?"

"Nothing." The innocence in his voice is just as credible as the chance of Louis wearing a tie tonight.

"You have something behind your back."

"Maybe." Harry says, face getting redder as he’s trying to contain his snicker.

Louis crosses his arms, and raises a brow.

Harry rides the drama a little longer, before bringing the items in his hands in front of himself, revealing what looks like a children’s water paint kit.

"There’s so many colours." Harry marvels. "The writing is in French, but like… The number I can read."

"Did you seriously steal from my little sister?"

"Yes." Harry brings Lottie’s kit with him out into the living room, and Louis follows after groaning a bit to himself.

"It’s lipstick," Harry decides once out in the living room. "Or gloss. Something in between."

"Okay…" Louis goes to sit on the couch next to Harry, quietly wondering if his boyfriend is traumatized by a broken string. "I can see that, Harry, but… You’ve your own stuff upstairs, you can’t just take these."

"But I don’t have yellow lipstick, Lou," Harry defends, and points toward said shade of yellow. Before Louis can answer, Harry smashes his finger into the colours, and smudges it onto his lips.

It looks quite nice, if Louis’ being honest. Even if it makes Harry look like he’s ate a bee.

"Lottie wanted us to match tonight, didn’t she?" Harry asks, and turns towards Louis, who just carefully nods. "Come here."

"Absolutely not," Louis shakes his head, not wanting that goo on him.

"Then I’ll come to you." Louis just isn’t quick enough to dodge Harry before he plants a loud smooch on his cheek. The most gleeful laugh escapes Harry’s mouth once he sees his handy work, the lipstick already drying up on Louis’ cheek, sticking to his stubble.

Louis wants to take the kit away from Harry, he really does. But a bigger part of him never wants that smile to fade away.

So Louis doesn’t struggle when Harry tries on every single shade of lipstick there is, and kisses the colour onto every part of Louis’ face.

"You look like a painting," Harry comments while rubbing a blue colour off his lips. "But not nearly finished."

Louis blinks. "I have lipstick on my eyelid."

"But not on your thighs," Harry says casually, before getting to his feet. "Kitchen, I need better lightning."

"Uh," Louis starts, but bites back the refusal the minute Harry senses it. "You better buy me new chocolates after this."

Harry beams, and ushers Louis into the kitchen, his lipsticks safely tucked under his arm.

"Clothes off," Harry commands.

Louis does what he’s told, and thankfully the array of curses that goes through his mind never escapes his lips. When Louis is just in his pants, he looks at Harry for approval. Harry sends his pants a pointed look in return. A moment later, Louis’s bum is covered in goosebumps.

"Did you turn the heating off, love?" Louis asks while Harry applies the yellow shade again, starting from the top.

"We don’t need to have the heater on when we’re not at home." Harry’s lips touch each of Louis’ shoulder blades, sending a new wave of shivers through his bones.

"Yeah, but we’re home now, aren’t we?"

Harry rubs the lipstick from his lips before applying a bright, red one. "We weren’t an hour ago."

"I’ve been home since Friday, though." One kiss on each shoulder. "And you know how I get cold so easily."

Pink lipstick. "But then you left the house, so I turned the heating off." Belly button. Louis shies away from the tickle, but Harry’s grip around Louis’ hips doesn’t let him get far.

"Which means you’ve been home the whole time since then, and the heating was still off."

Harry puts a finger against a kiss mark near Louis’ nipple. His finger is cold. "This one didn’t turn out right."

Louis looks down to where Harry’s pointing. "I think it looks good, babe."

"Nah." Harry’s gaze is determined for a moment, before he leans forward and drags his tongue over the mark and up to Louis’ nipple.

"Christ," Louis flinches. " _I’m cold_."

Harry rubs at the smooched mark for a bit. "I’m gonna do this one again."

Louis bites his teeth together when Harry’s lips near the mark again, his breath pooling over the wet skin like a bloody snow storm, and Louis wants nothing more than to turn the heating back on. Although, something in his pants tells him otherwise.

"I turned the heating off because I was warm." Harry picks up the conversation like he didn’t just lick Louis like a hungry animal, voice accusing. They’ve had this conversation a few times before, and Louis can’t for the life of him understand the point of turning the heating off at _all_ during the winter.

"Why didn’t you just say that then?" Louis asks, voice cracking in the middle of the sentence when Harry plants a hot kiss at the base of Louis’ throat.

"I still think we should learn to turn the heating off like we do with lights." Green lipstick this time, an ugly shade of green that is.

"Put that colour somewhere no one else can see, if you don’t mind," Louis pleads, nose scrunching up. It’s definitely the colour of barf.

Harry shrugs, muttering an "all right, then," before diving to his knees.

Louis’ eyes shoot open. "Harry!"

"Think green, is all I’m saying," is the response he gets, and Louis’ not really sure if this is about the heating or his dick.

"You’re an idi- ahh!" Louis grabs onto the kitchen counter with one hand, and Harry’s hair with the other, letting his frustration about the heating get swallowed up in the moment. Pun very much intended.

Louis hasn’t seen Harry for a few days, having been deprived of everything that is Harry, and he comes so quick that it’s almost embarrassing. 

That is, until he sees the state of Harry’s face when he gets back on his feet.

"Your face is very green," Louis comments hazily, completely out of breath. He leans all his weight on the counter, trying to control the shaking in his legs.

"Your face is very every colour I could find in my lipstick kit," Harry says drily, before planting a soft kiss on Louis’ lips. Louis leans into it for a moment, before realizing a moment too late that the ugly green colour is rubbing off on his face.

"We should shower," Louis says. "And get dressed and all that."

Harry looks confused for a moment. "What about my artwork?"

"You don’t seriously want me to go to the party like this?"

"Of course I do!" Harry says, eyes twinkling like stars. "It’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it? And you look perfect."

Louis refrains from making a grimace. "My dick is green. I wanna wash it."

"No one is going to see your bloody dick, Lou. Christ, I’m not letting you go there naked." Harry scrunches his brows like he _actually_ thought Louis was considering entering a room full of people with no clothes.

"It might irritate the skin," Louis tries.

"Then I’ll make it up to your irritated penis later tonight," Harry waves off. "Now turn around and lean forward, will ya? I’m not finished."

"We’re gonna be so late," Louis mumbles, but complies either way.

 

 

One hour and one location shift later, Louis’ snoring on top of the dining table, all energy gone after one hell of an art project. He dozed off somewhere in between the painting of the back of his thighs and knees. Harry has been very thorough.

It’s the heels of his feet that wakes him up, and Harry just about manages to dodge Louis’ foot when it kicks out on reflex.

Louis rolls over to his back, and sits up, feeling so drowsy that even he considers ditching Niall’s party.

"Wha’ time’s it?" Louis asks, reaching his hand up to rub his eyes. Harry grabs his wrist before he gets to his face, though, and tells him with a stern voice that he is _not_ to touch his face, or it might ruin the art.

"You’ve only been sleeping for like four minutes, babe," Harry snickers. "We’ve half an hour to get dressed and get there. And I think you are just about done."

"Just about," Louis deadpans. "I have blue lipstick up my bloody arsehole."

"And you gave me blue balls. Literally," Harry says, looking down at himself.

Louis looks down at his own dick, which is as green as it was an hour ago, and lets out a long sigh.

Harry puffs his chest a bit, just barely, and Louis shakes his head in endearment before hopping off of the table. At least that broken string is out of mind for now.

"Oh," Louis remembers. "I wanna do you too."

"Again?" Harry asks. "Love, I don’t think we have time for that."

"No, not that," Louis hurries to say. "Just give me a second."

Louis takes the lipstick kit out of Harry’s hands, and rubs a light shade of pink on his lips. Then, without a word, gets on his toes to plant a soft kiss on Harry’s cheek. He holds the kiss for a while, to make sure the colour rubs off properly, before pulling away.

"There," Louis says. "Matchy-matchy."

 

 

"I’ll drive," Harry says once he’s pulled on his socks. "I’ve got an interview in the morning, so I’m not drinking."

"You sure? I’ll get us a ride if you want just one drink, there’s no trouble." Louis adjusts his tie, which Harry insisted on that he was going to use. Louis didn’t have any energy left to argue. And either way, if his boyfriend likes the tie, then it’s already settled.

He feels a bit overdressed, what with the grey suit, shiny shoes… The darker shade of pink of his shirt. Top that off with the matching handkerchief in his breast pocket and it looks like he’s going to a cocktail party for sophisticated flamingos.

"I’m sure, love. Not really in the mood for drinking, either." Harry says the last sentence in a mumble, gaze set on his shoelaces. Harry’s outfit consists of a single, pink silk shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans.

Louis bends down to kiss Harry on top of his head. "You still thinking about that broken string, aren’t you?"

Harry nods.

"The last thing people are going to talk about tonight is your guitar strings," Louis promises.

"Yeah, right," Harry huffs.

Louis doesn’t say anything until Harry’s done with his shoelaces and looks up. "Are you kidding me? Look at my face! I look absolutely ridiculous."

Harry looks downright offended. "No you don’t."

"Not to you, maybe. But the people at the party are going to think otherwise." Louis quirks a smile to make sure Harry understands that his intent is not to argue. "People will be talking about the state of my face and your matching lips tonight, put two and two together, and think we are the sappiest pair in the entire universe."

Harry stares for a moment, before his eyes light up and he splutters a laugh into his hands. "Shit. We _are_ though, aren’t we?"

Louis smirks. "I think tonight will be fun."

 

 

Harry ends up driving anyway, and Louis spends the whole ride over staring into the sun visor mirror, inspecting his kiss marks. 

He has bright pink lipstick marks on his eyelid, cheekbone and throat. Blue marks are by the ears and throat - and other places he refuses to acknowledge at the moment. Yellow on the cheek. Red on the forehead and his jaw. Some brownish colour by his temple, crossing over to his hairline. Then one on the very tip of his nose, purple.

"Would you hate me if I’m having second thoughts about going like this?" Louis asks, hands sweating up a bit. He _did_ mean it earlier when he said he looked ridiculous. Sure, it’s cute and all when it’s just him and Harry. But in front of his mates? In front of the bartender who loves sharing party stories to his colleagues?

"Hate is a strong word," Harry points out. "And no, I wouldn’t. But that would mean people are going to talk shit about my performance."

"No one is going to do that," Louis reminds him. He thinks for a moment, and watches how Harry’s eyes are more interested in the road than ever before. "Alright. _Fine_. But I still want that chocolate."

Harry smirks. "There’s no going back, either way. We’re here."

They park where there’s room for their car, and luckily it’s not too crowded around Niall’s place.

"Did you bring the wine for Niall?" Louis asks once they’re both out the car.

"No, hold on." Harry hurries to unlock the car again and collects a plastic bag from the backseat. "There, all ready."

Louis reaches out his hand, and Harry is quick to grab it. A faint beat can be heard from inside the house, the beat of music. It’s still light out, so most of the guests are likely to still be sober.

But that doesn’t mean Niall hasn’t had a pre-party since noon.

"My friends!" Niall greets once they’ve made it inside, his arms spread wide. He’s holding a bottle in one hand.

Both Harry and Louis lets Niall engulf them, and Louis tries his best to make sure the bottle won’t spill its content all over them.

"Hi mate," Louis says once they’ve pulled away. And that’s when Niall gets a better look at his face.

"Christ," Niall says. There’s actual _concern_ in his voice. "What the hell."

"Ehh," Louis starts, and looks to Harry for a moment. "We… Wanted to look nice."

"Yeah," Harry pipes in. "Wanted to look nice tonight. Doesn’t Lou look nice, Niall?"

Niall looks between them for a moment. "Right." Cracks a smile. "All right, then! Great. You look great. Come on in."

Harry shoots Niall a bright smile, and hands off the wine to him, which he accepts like someone would accept a kitten.

"For me? You shouldn’t have," Niall says, and wanders off with it.

Harry and Louis walk around the house for about an hour, chats with some friends they haven’t seen for a while, meet Niall’s producer, and eat as much of Niall’s tapas they can before it runs out.

 

Not even one person mentions the Harry’s guitar strings. A few congratulates him on his performance, but the main sentence they’re met with is "What the hell is on your face, mate." Louis can tell Harry is grateful.

After some time Harry sees some of his friends, and Louis runs into his own, and they split apart for a while. But they never leave the room without each other, and Louis makes sure to never turn his back on Harry. It’s just something that has always been a thing of theirs, something that’s embedded into them like a code.

It’s hard for the both of them when they’re not together. When Harry was on tour, they skyped every night, and talked on the phone whenever there was time. Same went with Louis’ promotional tours.

It was easier when Harry was in Jamaica, and Louis could visit him whenever he had time, but a lot more easier when they were with each other every day, twenty-four seven. Hell, at that time, they even _craved_ some personal time _,_ where they could go about and do things without the other. However, even then they would always end up running back to each other like a moth to a flame.

Now that they both have their own thing, every moment with each other is so, so precious to Louis. Whenever they’re apart, Louis has to hold around an extra pillow at night, otherwise he can’t sleep. He’s grown accustomed to having something in his arms.

After Louis heard _Sign of the Times_ for the first time, he cried. Harry wasn’t with him at the moment, and hadn’t been for a few days. The lyrics hit Louis so hard back then, and he found his own meaning in the song. He had called Harry that night, and told him about it. Harry got on the first plane home.

Now, whenever he hears that song, he thinks of Harry. Thinks about them and just how far they’ve come, and that no matter what, they have each other in the end.

Harry gives Louis a wave from the other side of the room, and puts a finger to his one, single kiss mark on his cheek. Louis waves back, and precedes to cover his whole hand over his face in return.

"Is this a costume party?," someone says behind Louis, then, and Louis could recognize that voice anywhere.

"Payno!" Louis all but shouts, before spinning around to throw his arms around Liam.

Louis doesn’t see his bandmates that often anymore, so whenever he gets to see them again, the joy that comes with is like no other.

He chats with Liam for a while, and Harry is quick to join in.

Louis grabs Harry’s hand, fiddles with his fingers while the conversation goes on. He pulls on a ring, and puts it on his own finger, and back.

"You want a drink?" Harry asks when Louis pulls another one of his rings off.

Louis leans in and lowers his voice. "My balls are itching really, really badly right now."

"Is it the lipstick?" Harry whispers back.

Louis shrugs, then nods.

As if on cue, Lottie appears out of the crowd behind a confused-looking Liam. Her gaze is set straight on Harry.

"I’ve been looking for those everywhere!" She exclaims once she’s made it to the pair, and gives Harry a slap to his arm.

"Ouch," Harry complains. "What?"

To make her point, Lottie grabs onto Louis’ chin and directs it towards Harry. "This."

"But it’s Valentine’s," Louis attempts weakly.

Lottie opens her mouth as if to say something, but then her eyes land on the kiss marks on Louis’ throat. She quickly releases his chin, only to grab at his wrist and pull his sleeves up to reveal yet another cluster of kiss marks.

"You two are gross," she announces, with a small glint of fondness in her eyes. She looks to Harry. "You owe me a new palette."

Harry nods, a dimple popping in his cheek.

 

 

They both decide to call it a night the minute Niall turns down the music and collects his guitar. This part of the evening makes everyone so damned depressed, and neither Louis nor Harry wants to be there for it.

On a more important note, Louis’ balls are kind of on fire, the lipstick feeling like acid glue in his pants, and Harry started to complain about the same issue not long after. So home it is.

As soon as they’re in the door, Louis turns on the heating immediately, and sends Harry a pointed look before the latter goes upstairs to fill the bath.

Louis only had a few drinks, and he’s more or less sobered up by now. The only thing left in him is a warmth in his chest from seeing all his mates again, from a successful night. He’s also damn tired, but knows he’s got to clean all this lipstick off before he can lay down.

Harry doesn’t come down for a few minutes, so Louis suspects he’s collecting gifted bath bombs from every corner of the house. Meanwhile, Louis goes to make them both something to snack on, and fills a couple of glasses with iced tea for them.

He puts his items on a tray and goes upstair to the bathroom, finding Harry already undressed, a hand stuck in the water to feel the temperature.

The bath is pre-filled with soap, the foam almost flowing onto the tiles.

"I could shower this off before getting in," Louis says, gesturing to his clothed body.

Harry shakes his head. "Don’t want you to."

Louis accepts that with a nod, and places his tray at a chair by the bathtub. As suspected earlier, Harry’s collected an impressive amount of bath bombs.

Louis picks a pink one up. "Today was nice, wasn’t it?"

"Yeah," Harry murmurs. A moment later a pair of arms wraps themselves around Louis’ shoulder, and pull him close. Warm.

Harry nibbles a bit at Louis’ ear. "Let’s get you undressed, yeah?"

Louis turns around in Harry’s arms, finds his gaze. Without another word said, Harry starts undressing Louis with careful hands, and lays the clothes in a neat pile by the sink.

When Louis’ completely naked, Harry reaches a hand out to touch a kiss mark by Louis’ chest.

"I have a tattoo idea," Harry whispers, eyes scheming.

Louis pulls his brows together, confused. Then he looks down to where Harry’s finger is pointing, and his eyes shoot up. "No way."

"Yes way," Harry replies. "That would be so cute."

"It would not," Louis says, rolling his eyes.

"Lou, please," Harry says, voice going up an octave. "It doesn’t have to be big, I promise. It’s been so long since we got matching ones."

"If we keep this up, Hazza, we won’t have any room left on our bodies," Louis says, mouth pulling up a bit. "But you want like… _Matching_ -matching? A kiss mark each?"

Harry nods excitedly, expression a lot like Clifford’s whenever he gets fed. "We could do different colours, though. Oh! You know what would be so cool?"

Louis just cocks his hip, waiting.

"If we kissed a paper, yeah? And gave the design to the tattoo artist. So I could have your lips on me, and you could have my lips on you!"

"Ehhm." Louis doesn’t really know what to say. This spontaneous idea of his boyfriend must have something to do with the date.

Harry doesn’t give up, and gives Louis the most heart wrenching puppy eyed look he can muster.

Louis cracks at that, and feels how his smile makes his skin pull by the weight of the dried lipstick. "Then those tattoos will be for our eyes only. All right? No flashy stuff."

"Yes!" Harry applauds with a smile. He smooches a wet kiss onto Louis’ mouth not even a second later, the glee transferring to Louis instantly.

"Sometimes you can be really bloody insatiable, you know that?" Louis says.

"I’m happy now, aren’t I?" Harry replies. "C’mon, then. Bath is ready."

Harry dips his toes in first, and gives Louis a go ahead guesture to come along when he’s satisfied with the temperature. As soon as they’re both in, Harry pulls Louis up to his chest, and Louis dips his head back on his shoulder.

They’re quiet for a moment, both enjoying the heat. Then Louis has a thought. "What if the lipstick is waterproof?"

"I wouldn’t mind." Louis feels the shrug of Harry’s shoulders behind himself.

"Of course you wouldn’t."

Harry shifts a bit behind him, and pushes at Louis a bit. "Lemme see if I can rub some off, then."

Louis turns in the tub to face him, and allows Harry to wipe at his face with a soapy sponge.

"Is it coming off?" Louis asks, and peeks an eye open.

"Keep your eyes shut, love. Don’t want to get soap in there."

Louis shuts them at once. It takes a while before Harry moves the sponge to his throat, and by then, Louis’ getting drowsy from the heat.

"‘m tired," Louis complains.

"I’ll wash the most important bits then, and we’ll do the rest tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Harry makes sure to get all the lipstick off of both of their dicks, which conveniently ends in an orgasm for them both, that neither actually had the energy for. But it did the job of getting the itchy goo off.

Louis falls asleep just about the minute his head hits the pillow that night, his arms securely wrapped around his valentine.

 

 

The day after, Louis’ in the living room by himself with his laptop on his thighs, a bowl of cocoa pops in his hands. Harry’s interview will be online any minute, and Louis feels like he’s more excited for it than the girls in his twitter feed.

See, before Harry left the house, Louis could faintly see the fading kiss mark on Harry’s cheek was still there. Maybe he should have informed Harry about it, but… Louis didn’t. So.

Louis refreshes his browser once more, and finally the interview is up. The thumbnail shows Harry’s smiling face. And right where his dimple is popping; Louis’ lips in a faint colour of pink.


End file.
